


the in between

by wakandawinterprincess



Category: Black Panther (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, ig, not anything compliant, post IW, soul stone stuff, thats why its a fic!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandawinterprincess/pseuds/wakandawinterprincess
Summary: They have a love story. But it doesn’t last.Takes place directly after Infinity War. Not Endgame compliant.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes/Shuri
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43





	the in between

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of two.

When Bucky wakes up, it’s the last place he could have  _ possibly _ expected. 

He’s in Wakanda, yes, but it’s not on the battlefield, though the taste of burning air still scorches the back of his throat.

No. Instead, he blinks awake into the bright sunlight. Wakes up on the river bank, wrapped in soft, familiar tribal shawls. 

For a fraction of a moment, he breathes easy. He’s home again. He’s  _ safe _ . 

They  _ all _ must be.

Until he realizes,  _ instantly _ , what’s wrong.

The sun.  _ Why can’t he see it _ ?

  
  


And then it all comes back to him.

  
  
  


The war. The battle. 

  
  


His last words,  _ “Steve _ ?” as he fell down, felt his consciousness crumble into dust.

Oh God.  **_Dying_ ** . For real this time.

Something breaks his thoughts.

A soft but clearly startled voice, one that’s  _ all _ too familiar ….

  
  


_ “Ingcuka _ ?”

  
  
  


**_No_ ** .

_ No. No. No. _

It simply  _ can’t _ be.

He turns around, and there she is -- Princess Shuri, in the flesh. 

Looking beautiful (as she always does) -- and completely,  _ utterly _ terrified.

Bucky struggles to comprehend the sight in front of him.

**Why** is she here? 

  
  


_ Does that mean _ …?

  
  
  


She interrupts his train of thought before he can finish piecing things together.

“Bucky --  _ where are we _ ?”

  
  


He knows the answer. 

Well, a part of it.

  
  


She does, too. He can just tell.

  
  


But looking into her face, he doesn’t have the heart to  _ say _ it.

“I don’t  _ know _ , princess.” he murmurs. 

It’s not quite comfort, but it will have to be enough. 

For now, anyways.

* * *

“Why here?” she asks him later, sitting on the riverbank. “Why with me?”

_ This is where I was happiest, _ he thinks.  _ When I was with you. _

* * *

The sun doesn’t set in this strange world they’ve been dropped into. Well -- the sun doesn’t  _ exist _ at all, actually. Wherever the hell this is.

But the skies do eventually turn dark, fading from yellow into orange into purple, and that’s their cue to leave.

They trek back up a familiar route. He wonders, absently, if directions here work as they did back in Wakanda. In real life.

And that’s when they see it. 

His hut. Sitting here now, as if it had always been there.

_ What the hell? _

He turns to Shuri, then. A silent look of bewilderment passes between the two of them, followed by a quiet resolution. 

  
  


Without another word, they approach the entrance. 

  
  


Shuri raises a hand to shakily touch the frame. As if to test and see that it’s real, not one of her technological projections, or a shady mirage of some sort.

Her hand settles on the smooth surface. It’s  _ real _ . 

Well -- as real as this can be, anyways.

Shuri bites her lower lip, looking every bit as unsettled as he still feels, but the next step is clear.

She turns quietly and nods, as if to say:  _ After you _ .

* * *

Bucky leads them inside, and now it’s clearer than ever before -- this is most  _ certainly _ his hut. No questions asked.

He knows the inside of it like the back of his hand by now. Still, it’s jarring to see everything  _ exactly _ as it was before, as if he’d just left and come back. 

The random knick-knacks, left by the village children. The kerosene lamp, in the corner. A handwritten note from Shuri herself, still sitting on the makeshift table next to his bed.

Ordinarily, Bucky would have spent more time examining the contents of the room, but he’s suddenly hit with an overwhelming wave of  _ tiredness _ . 

(He supposes that’s what dying will do to a person.)

Bucky tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle a quiet yawn. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the princess, either.

He sees Shuri sizing up the small cot on the floor. Knows, in an instant, just  _ where _ she is about to take this conversation.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ even offer, Shuri.” he warns. “The bed is yours. I’ll take the floor.”

Usually, she would have argued with him, he knows, even if just for the sake of it. She’s stubborn like that, and he loves her for it.

But this time, she doesn’t. And he’s grateful for that, too.

“OK, then.” she relents. “For  _ now _ .”

A pause, and then she breaks into a grin before she cheekily adds -- 

“I’ve always wanted to sleep in your bed, anyways. Seems very  _ cozy _ .”

It’s an innocent, off-handed joke. A simple  _ tease _ , if that. 

He  _ knows _ that.

And yet. He finds that he has to swallow down an instinctive flash of heat, one that warms him to his core.  _ Damn it _ .

Bucky forces himself to stop. Before his brain goes somewhere it’s  _ definitely _ not allowed to be.

“Anytime, your Highness.” 

He throws in a sanctimonious little bow in, just for kicks.

Shuri rolls her eyes. Throws a pillow at his head, but she’s laughing now, and then he’s laughing, too.

And for one moment, despite everything else that’s happened, it feels like  _ enough _ .

* * *

Bucky doesn’t actually fall asleep right away. Finds that he  _ can’t _ , despite how tired his body feels, how much his bones ache.

They might not even wake up, he considers. Maybe this is truly the end for them.

Like ripples, little waves returning to the ocean. One final moment of lucidity, before crashing against the shore and then pulling back, disappearing forever.

Shuri turns around from her spot on the cot so she’s facing him. It’s dark, but from the look on her face, he can tell -- she’s been thinking the exact same thing. 

She reaches out for him. Her small, delicate hand, reaching towards his. 

Seeking the comfort of a small touch. A  _ human _ one.

He moves closer. Lets his real hand grasp hers, squeeze it as gently as he can.

“ _ Stay _ .” she whispers, and he just nods. 

_ Survive _ .

For her, he knows -- he’d do  _ anything _ . 

And if this  _ is _ the end -- this is exactly how he would want it to be.

He can feel her whole body relax into his touch. Can feel the warmth of her fingers against his own. 

Then in another instant, they both fall asleep, as suddenly as waves crashing against the shore. 

* * *

They  _ do _ wake up the next morning. And the one after that, and then the one after that.

* * *

So they start to build together. 

A life, on the other side of whatever reality they’ve dropped in. If one could even call it that.

“Are we alive? I mean… is this our life now?”, she asks him one day.

Bucky thinks about it. For a moment.

“If we want it to be,” he murmurs, “well, who’s to say it  _ isn’t _ ?” 

It’s not a complete answer. But it will do.

“Well.” Shuri delicately smoothes her skirt, puts on a brave face. “You’re damn lucky I found you, then.”

Bucky smiles. The way only  _ she _ can make him, as it were.

“That I am, princess,” he agrees.  _ That I am. _

* * *

Time operates differently here. The days are long and warm and lazy, the nights short and cool and quiet.

Shuri without her gadgets is a girl on edge, and he can’t help but feel bad for her. For being stuck here. With  _ him _ as the only familiar face to take comfort in.

She busies herself with other things, as best as she can. Feeds the goats out back,  Themba and Uuka, but not Nceba and Buhle, he notes with a bittersweet lump in his throat.

Their survival is a  _ good _ thing. It’s more than he can say for Steve or T’Challa or Sam or Okoye, or the countless others that have been left behind.

But he can’t help the inexplicable sadness he feels anyways.

* * *

Shuri approaches him with a different question, one evening.

“If we ever get out of this…  _ whatever _ we’re trapped in. Do you think we’d forget it all?”

Bucky pauses at that. Thinks about all his times, being in and out of cryo. 

The feeling of having his brain taken out and put back into a blender, over and over and over again. 

The  _ truth _ of it all. As bittersweet as it may be.

“Memory is never  _ really _ gone.” he tells her. The words come out with no edge, no force. 

Because it’s the truth. His truth, anyways.

She cocks her head, clearly surprised at the response. 

“ _ Hmm _ . Explain.”

And in that moment, Bucky feels  _ extraordinarily _ foolish. Feigning to explain his hunch to a literal genius. 

But seeing the look on her face -- a look of quiet hope, mixed with something else he can’t  _ quite _ place -- he continues to explain.

“The human mind is resilient to a degree, yes. But more than that -- so is the heart.”

_ You showed me that. _

Shuri nods slowly. Turns away from him, then, to look at the colors of the dying sunset. Like she’s taking it all in, the view and his words both.

“I hope you’re right,  _ Ingcuka. _ ” she murmurs, looking at the expanse of the sky in front of them.

Bucky lets himself steal a long look at her. Notes the way his heart beats in his chest, in spite of how hard he’s always tried to stop it.

“I hope so too, princess.” he murmurs.

_ I hope so too. _

* * *

Nothing around them in this seeming-dreamworld changes very much. But  _ they _ do.

“Your hair and beard are getting a bit unruly”, Shuri notes off-handedly one day. 

The words aren’t unkind. Just curious.

He turns to face her, then. Sees the idea forming on her face before she can even say it out loud.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m  _ offering _ , you silly old goat.” she murmurs, and well, that’s that.

* * *

Trimming hair is easy, as it turns out. 

The beard, though? That’s hard. Extraordinarily so.

He’d had half a mind to just do it himself, but she’d  _ insisted _ she wanted to try. Bucky isn’t all that confident in her skills, but he figures he can probably survive a nick here and there if it means making her happy, if just for a little while.

Which is how, he supposes, they ended up here.

Shuri’s crouched between his legs, completely focused on the job at hand. The edge of her blade hovers just near the underside of his jaw -- the last spot left.

Bucky shifts in his chair, restless. Just a little movement, really, but she catches him anyways.

“Don’t _ move” _ , she chides him. “This is the most important part. And I need you to  _ trust _ me.”

“I  _ do _ , princess.” he rasps, and all he can do is  _ hope _ she hasn’t noticed the way she’s affected him, the strangled note of  _ want _ in his voice.

The air around them feels thick and hot. Shuri leans in, one hand resting on his knee as she brings the blade back to his face again.

The feel of the cool blade against his skin centers him. Away from the scent of her skin.  The distractions of his own mind.

" _Focus_ , Sergeant." she whispers. A final warning, a note of caution.

Then, in one elegant, clean motion, she runs the blade over the last spot. 

And just like that -- it’s _done_.

Shuri turns for a moment to grab something, then leans in once more. 

And before he can even  _ register _ it, she’s got her hands on his face again. Gently wipes the shaving cream off his face with a warm towel. 

It’s a tender motion. The task is something below a princess, but he’s grateful for the privilege -- to be touched by her like this, if just for a moment -- regardless.

“ _ There _ .” Her voice teeters between something teasing and flirty, and she grins up at him now. Even in the dim, warm light of the fireplace, he can see a sparkle in her eye, can see how  _ clearly _ proud she is of a job well done. 

There’s something  _ else _ there, too, in the way her eyes lock with his, now. It’s a look that ignites something hot and painful in his chest.

And Bast, she’s close, so  _ close _ to him. So close that he might do something incredibly  _ stupid _ . 

Like pull her up into his lap and  _ kiss _ her. 

The vision flashes before his eyes: pressing his starved, hungry mouth against hers, letting the motion say everything that he can’t put to words. Kissing her soundly, again and again, until she moans herself hoarse beneath him, lets the blade in her hand clatter to the ground. 

She can read his thoughts, he’s sure. He swears he sees a spark of ....  _ something _ in her eyes. 

_ Curiosity _ ?

**No** .

He can’t entertain a thought like that. He  _ won’t _ .

  
  


“Thanks for not killing me.” he murmurs, to ease the tension. 

  
  


She laughs, and just like that, the heat in the room cools. Not a lot, but just enough. 

“Anytime _ , Ingcuka _ .” she whispers. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked, leave a comment! Love those. Find me on tumblr with the same @


End file.
